


you're someone i'll never get over

by dylansstrome



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Michael Has a Squip, And he's an ass, Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Hurt/Comfort, Idk how to tag things, M/M, brief reference to michael sucking dick ??, michael gets the squip instead of jeremy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-20
Packaged: 2019-03-06 22:53:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13421319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylansstrome/pseuds/dylansstrome
Summary: “I’m probably gonna be changing up my wardrobe a bit,” Michael shrugged. He figured that if this whole thing ended up working, his squip probably wouldn’t approve of the way he currently dressed- apparently wardrobe was the first thing most people who got them would change. “I want someone special to keep it- you never know what this thing might make me do to my old clothes,” he joked. “Besides, you always wanna wear it anyway.”Jeremy smiled. “I’ll take good care of it.”





	you're someone i'll never get over

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is based on the song [hoodie by hey violet](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hLZ9f05dnEw)\- it's a bop! go give it a listen, and i hope you enjoy!

“Are you sure you wanna go through with this?”

The pair were seated on Jeremy’s bed, having just returned home from the mall. Michael was staring down at his hands, Mountain Dew in one, small grey pill in the other.

Michael nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “I can always deactivate it if I need to.” He paused for a moment before giving a small hum and a smile. “Well, here goes nothing,” he said, tossing the pill to the back of his throat and taking a swig from the bottle.

“I really hope this works,” Jeremy murmured, looking down at his hands. They had been talking about this for weeks, ever since Rich first approached Jeremy in the school bathroom, telling him how much better his life would be if he took his advice and bought a ‘squip’. He and Michael immediately began researching (which was fucking hard, when they couldn’t use Google to find anything) and waited to buy one until they knew all of the risks they’d be taking. Eventually they agreed that Michael should be the one to go through with the process, figuring it would be easier for him to make friends for the both of them; he was more approachable, and definitely less anxious.

“Me too,” Michael agreed. “It’s supposed to take a few minutes to activate.” He paused. “Hey, Jer?”

“Hm?” 

Michael shifted a bit to take off his hoodie, pulling it over his head and holding it out to Jeremy. “I want you to take this.”

Jeremy blinked. “What? Why?” he asked, taking the hoodie and looking down at the fabric in his hands.

“I’m probably gonna be changing up my wardrobe a bit,” Michael shrugged. He figured that if this whole thing ended up working, his squip probably wouldn’t approve of the way he currently dressed- apparently wardrobe was the first thing most people who got them would change. “I want someone special to keep it- you never know what this thing might make me do to my old clothes,” he joked. “Besides, you always wanna wear it anyway.”

Jeremy smiled. “I’ll take good care of it.”

***

The first thing Jeremy noticed, just like Michael had said, was new clothes. Michael had abandoned his signature red hoodie for a varsity jacket (even though he didn’t play a sport), swapped out his band tees for polos and button downs, stopped wearing his customized sweatshirts, and thrown out or burned pretty much everything he had ever purchased from Hot Topic. The most notable thing that was missing, though, were his headphones.

He was unable to let go of his music completely, but his squip had convinced him to leave the large white ones behind in favor of wireless earbuds. _They look tacky and weird,_ it had told him, and that was the end of that.

Shockingly enough, he wasn’t forced to get contacts or stop wearing his glasses- according to the squip, if Michael just changed his clothes up and started using more product in his hair he would look “intelligent and attractive.” When guys were exchanging phone numbers with him left and right, Michael really wasn’t complaining.

He still sat with Jeremy at lunch every day, eventually bringing him to sit with his new friends. Jeremy noticed the weird looks the others would give him, but Michael didn’t seem to, so he just ignored them. He didn’t have to talk much anyway, and since Jake and Christine were talking all the time now (much to his bisexual dismay), Jeremy got to sit with his both of his crushes at lunch. He was living every high school loser’s dream.

Almost.

Michael, on the other hand, was thriving- new friends, better grades, and a slight semblance of a sex life. Yeah, he was acting different, but this was going to be good. Yeah, he was now talking to Jake Dillinger and Rich Goranski on a daily basis, but things were going to be fine. Michael wouldn’t just leave his best friend of 12 years in the dirt.

Right?

***

The problems started with Jake’s halloween party.

That stupid, stupid fucking party.

Jeremy hadn’t spoken to Michael in about a week. He had stopped sitting with him at lunch and refused to even look in his general direction, and he hadn’t explicitly said so, but it was obvious that Michael was having a better time with his new friends than he ever did with Jeremy. Jeremy just watched as he slowly but surely left him alone.

That’s exactly what he was doing now. Watching.

He had been hanging in a corner for most of the night, watching as his (ex?) best friend flourished and socialized with their peers. It seemed effortless to him now, and Jeremy was alone. He had been trying to talk to Michael all night, but this proved to be of no use when the older boy seemed unable to even see him.

Hours passed, Michael moved to a different part of the house, probably getting blown by that guy from their physics class, and Jeremy had almost finally given up. He was sitting on the floor, nursing a red solo cup when Michael finally walked in his direction, stopping in front of him.

“Hey,” Michael said, smiling down at him.

Jeremy looked up, eyes locking with Michael’s. “Didn’t realize Nick was a flute player,” he hummed, downing the rest of his drink.

“What?”

“Nick. From physics? I knew he was in marching band, but I thought he played clarinet.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Fucking- skin flute. He sucked your dick. I’m making fun of you for having sex a-”

“Right, ok. I get it,” Michael huffed, irritated.

“So you’re done acting like I don’t exist?” Jeremy asked finally, bitterness surrounding his tone.

Michael sighed, softening a bit. “Look, man. These past couple weeks have been really hard for me too. I’ve changed pretty much everything about myself, and this thing can be fucking brutal when you don’t follow its orders,” he said, tapping his temple with two fingers for emphasis. “I’m sorry that we haven’t talked as much, but I don’t understand why you can’t just be happy for me. This is what we wanted, remember?”

“No,” Jeremy spat. “It’s what _you_ wanted. I wanted us to finally fit in. Both of us. Not just you.”

Michael sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Jer-” he began, but the younger boy cut him off in anger.  

“You’ve been avoiding me all month! I haven’t made any friends, and you’ve been fucking gone,” he murmured, angry tears forming in his eyes. “We were supposed to be a team.”  

Michael didn’t even think before he spoke again, and he didn’t mean to say what he said next. He really didn’t. It was like someone else was in his body, using his voice, stripping him of all control.

Maybe because there basically was.

“It’s not my fault you’re such a loser.”

Jeremy blinked, just staring at Michael as he turned away, returning to his circle at the other side of the room. He felt tears spilling out over his cheeks, and _fuck_ , people were staring. It was like his whole world stopped in that moment, and all he knew was that Michael was gone, his only friend was _gone_ , and he was alone.

_Loser._

After what felt like two years but was probably more like two minutes, Jeremy felt himself pushing through other people, names and curses following him as he walked to the bathroom, teary eyes glued to the floor. He slammed the door behind him and threw his head back against it, sobs racking his body as he fell to the ground and looked up at the ceiling.

This was by far the worst party Jeremy Heere had ever attended.

***

It had been a week since the party. Seven days, and Michael hadn’t seen or heard from Jeremy since. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t worried- he’d been asking around left and right, but really, no one knew Jeremy that well or particularly cared how he was doing. Christine was the only other person showing any sort of concern, and even she changed the subject to the previous night’s English homework near-immediately. He couldn’t say he blamed Jeremy either- if Jeremy had treated him like he did that night, he’d probably be at home getting high and burning their childhood photos.

He was just petty like that, though.

***

Jeremy sat on his bed, reruns of Friends playing on his TV. His curtains were closed, and he hadn’t showered or seen sunlight since Halloween.

He looked pathetic and he knew it- he felt pretty pathetic too, considering that he hadn’t taken Michael’s hoodie off since he got home that night.

It made him feel like things were okay. He shoved his hands into the pockets, pulling the hood up and chewing on the strings. Memories of holding Michael’s hand in the pockets on late night 7/11 runs flooded back to him, filling his entire body with hurt. It still smelled like him, too, and that only made things worse. Still, Jeremy had been wearing it to bed every night. It was kind of a comfort thing at this point. If he couldn’t have Michael back, he could at least pretend.

It was Saturday, maybe Sunday, now, and he had been ignoring his father’s attempts to get him to come eat and responding with one-word answers or silence every time he came to check on him. It wasn’t long before Mr. Heere was just leaving plates in his son’s room. Jeremy made no move to get them until he was damn near starving, and at that point the food was usually cold and basically inedible. Needless to say, the plates were just piling up, and, yeah, the older ones were starting to smell.

Jeremy let out a loud sigh, having more than cried himself dry at this point. He looked up at his ceiling, turning to check the time on his phone. 12:33 AM.

Yeah, it was Sunday, then.

He soon heard his dad’s voice followed by a gentle knock at the door. “Hey champ. You’re gonna have to make it to school on Monday. They won’t stop making calls,” he sighed, “Do with that info what you will. I’d start with a shower, but it’s up to you,” he murmured, taking a few plates off of Jeremy’s desk and shutting the door behind him.

Jeremy pulled up the covers, rolling onto his side and staring at Jennifer Aniston and David Schwimmer until his body forced him to sleep.

***

It wasn’t until Monday that Jeremy finally sauntered into school, hair messy and dark circles darker than ever. He ignored everyone that tried to talk to him (which, granted, wasn’t a huge number) and sat alone at lunch, wishing his dad had just let him take another day off. He hadn’t done any homework and wasn’t paying attention in any of his classes, because why would he? It wasn’t like anybody really cared anyway. Michael was the only one who ever did, and he was gone.

It wasn’t until Monday that Michael saw Jeremy again, and instead of feeling any sort of relief, the image just twisted Michael’s stomach into knots.

He was wearing Michael’s hoodie.

Michael had just hurt his best friend to the point where he skipped school for an entire week, and yet, there he was, _wearing Michael’s hoodie._

_What the fuck._

It wasn’t until Monday that Michael realized just how bad he’d fucked up.

***

Michael saw Jeremy over the next few weeks much more often than normal, it seemed. Every time he crossed the younger boy’s path, Michael felt an emptiness inside of him, stomach churning with guilt and regret.

The deep voice in the back of his head tried hard to convince him not to, but Michael had done his research and made up his mind. The squip was causing more trouble than it was solving, and Michael wanted it out. He met up with his hook (his 90’s soft drinks hook, that is) at the mall that afternoon, taking all of the necessary precautions to deactivate the squip and waiting to leave the house until he was certain that the computer had shut down for good.

Michael finally approached Jeremy again on the first day of Thanksgiving break. School had just ended, and Jeremy had immediately gone home, not stopping to talk to anyone or do anything, just as he had for the past two weeks.

Michael knocked on the front door, tapping his foot anxiously as he waited for someone to answer it. When it swung open, he met Jeremy’s father with a small smile. “Hi, Mr. Heere, is Jeremy home? There’s something I really need to talk to him about,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I kinda owe him an apology.

Mr. Heere nodded, smiling and stepping out of the way to let Michael in. “He’s upstairs.”

“Thank you,” Michael breathed, walking inside and heading upstairs.

Jeremy’s bedroom door was still somewhat ajar, the brunet lighting candles and staring at the flames. Michael gently pushed the door open, watching as Jeremy lit matches and let them burn until they almost touched his fingertips. He noticed a small shoebox full of photographs and ticket stubs near Jeremy’s bed, a few items scattered about his nightstand. Michael mulled over the possibilities of what Jeremy’s intentions might be with them, but he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind and turned his attention to Jeremy. He didn’t look up, but he knew Michael was there.

Michael knew that he knew, too.

“Hey,” he murmured, sitting on the edge of Jeremy’s bed.

“Hey.”

Michael looked down, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. He sat like that for a moment, gaze drifting to Jere- his hoodie, and stared at one of the patches. He took a deep breath, sitting up. “Listen, I fucked up. I fucked up bad. I wanted to make things better for us, and I let my ego get the best of me, and I was being really selfish and I’m sorry. It took you wearing my hoodie every day to realize it, but I need you around. I know that doesn’t really fix things, but I want to be able to,” he sighed. “I deactivated it, by the way. It wasn’t worth having it to lose you.”

There was a long pause before Jeremy spoke again. “I want to fix things, too.” He punctuated his words by discarding his matchbook and shifting a bit on the bed.

Michael smiled, taking the opportunity to lay down and pull Jeremy close. “It looks really good on you, by the way.”

“What?”

“The hoodie. It looks really good on you.”

Jeremy smiled. “Thanks.”

“I love you a lot, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

Michael smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to Jeremy’s hair. Maybe this was gonna be alright. If the way he felt right now was any indicator, he was confident that they could fix this.

“I’m keeping the hoodie, by the way,” Jeremy firmly stated after a moment, but Michael could hear a smile through his voice.

Michael laughed a little, pressed a kiss to Jeremy’s jaw. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> hello, and thank you for reading! this is the first fic i've ever like,, put a lot of time/effort into and formally posted and i'm very proud of it it!! i hope you liked it!


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